Bloody December
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: [Drabble] The holidays near, and Omi tries to make right and say the words that are hardest to find: "Good-bye."


Bloody December  
  
A/N: Internet Explorer and Netscape kept crashing, so I popped open Notepad and wrote this. It's nothing good or even special, just a dark little piece from the recesses of my mind. And I *am* the Rabid Ouka Fangirl. By the way, in case you were wondering, etc., etc.   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the story below, and you can go to *expletive deleted* in a handbasket before you even *try* suing me.  
  
*******  
  
The snow was covered in blood.  
  
At least, that's what it looked like, from a distance. In reality, they were just red, red roses, a perfect bouquet, spread out before the tiny gravesite. The boy who'd brought them here, Tsukiyono Omi, shrugged into his jacket and tried to straighten them out a bit.   
  
"I'm not too sure if these were your favorites or not," he said softly, "but you always did like flowers... "  
  
His big blue eyes closed and he sighed, remembering. The wind whistled, and he shivered yet again. The days were so long, and the snow made everything so dismal... Especially here, and especially now.   
  
Omi wasn't even sure if his 'gift' was appropriate or not. Even with the holidays fast approaching, he was having an impossibly hard time trying to cheer up in the least. So many things had happened to him, and now... Now he wasn't really sure of anything. Not anymore.  
  
"I arranged these roses for you myself," he said softly, kindly. His gaze meandered over the name inscripted on the grave marker, and he sighed again, his eyes closing as tears threatened to come.  
  
"I know... that would have meant something to you... Ouka-chan... "  
  
The world fell silent again, and the boy shivered in the wind. He pulled his legs closer to his chest, desperate for warmth. Not too surprising, however---he was seated in the snow, in the midst of a cemetary. It seemed almost natural to feel so cold and lifeless in a place like this.  
  
The tears were falling before he even realized it. He suddenly found himself staring at that name in longing, wishing for her to appear before him once more. Even one more time, if only just to snap at him for sitting out in the cold like this... It would have made all the difference.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough with emotions. "I never... I never even got to say good-bye... "  
  
He pawed at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to calm down. The gloves he wore scratched at his skin, but he didn't truly mind too much. They could be taken off later, and the feeling would soon fade... Just like everything in his life seemed to.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Omi moved a bit closer to the grave and tried to fix the flowers again. They had been beautiful before; it was not out of necessity that he fixed them now, but more of something he had to do. He couldn't just do nothing---that would have been an insult to her memory, and the memory he had of her dying there, in his arms... with no time to ever even ay good-bye, or voice how much he cared.  
  
Once again, the blond felt very alone in the world.  
  
Sighing once more, he glanced up, at the grey sky. A few scattered flurries---that's what the weather report had called for today, Christmas Eve. And it was true, there were a few flakes in the air, but it was nothing. It should have been nothing, but it wasn't.   
  
Because she had meant something to him.  
  
"We never got to spend the holidays together," Omi muttered, his voice hollow and distant, even to his own ears. If there was one regret he held closest, aside from the obvious one of not being able to protect or even avenge her, and aside from never saying good-bye...   
  
Blue eyes flickered open, unshed tears shining. His hand jerked on the roses, and several of the petals flew off in the slight breeze. He didn't have to watch them to know that, after swirling up only just a few feet, they would fall to the ground, crushed and ruined. So much like the way he felt, at times.... and especially now.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said again. "For everything... And I promise you, I will come back. I'll avenge you... and then... Then maybe I won't feel so bad about not saying good-bye... "  
  
He stood up quietly, and looked down at her bouquet. Hesitating slightly, he reached deep into the outside pocket of his winter jacket and pulled out a white piece of cloth. It didn't look like much, in any stretch of the imagination, but he knew that it would have meant something to her, and that was why... That was why he knelt down again and tied a quick bow around the roses with it.  
  
"When you got hurt that one time, I helped you," he said softly, standing up again. "I... only wish I could have helped you more. I'm... I'm sorry, Ouka."  
  
His piece was said, and then he left. And once again, the wind blew at the flowers. As he walked away, he glanced back once---in time to see a flurry of red fly up from the ground and up towards the sky, the petals he'd lost.  
  
The smile that hit him then was small, thin, but far from meaningless. He walked away in silence, knowing that at least he'd finally been able to say good-bye.  
  
Even if he could never say how much he'd cared for her... Good-bye would have to be enough.  
  
There was no other way.  
  
*******  
  
*******  
  
A/N: You tell me if it was sad. I'm feeling kind of apathetic right now. -_- Stupid computer...   
  
---Gangsta Videl 


End file.
